


Memories

by marylou



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marylou/pseuds/marylou
Summary: By the time the Once and Future King returned, Merlin had lived too many lives.
Kudos: 18





	Memories

An old man sat on a rock beside the lake, watching the ripples and wavelets fan across the otherwise mirror-like surface.   
  
So many memories of this place crowded his mind. He couldn't distinguish one from another; they ran together, blurring into a colorful haze. Too many emotions; more than he could handle. What was this place to him? He didn’t know anymore.   
  
He looked down at his reflection in the water below.   
  
He looked old.   
  
He could hardly remember a time when he hadn't been. It seemed as if he had always had this long, scraggly hair and beard turned gray by time, a face mapped out by time, and a body run over by time.   
  
Why was he here again?   
  
There was something, some promise he had made to someone. . .   
  
“I'll be here when you wake up,” he remembered saying to someone. “Don't worry, I'll be there.” He had been crying when he said it, hadn't he?   
  
But who had he said it to? It was so long ago. . .   
  
Someone. . . a friend maybe. . .or a brother? He no longer knew. But it had been important to him, once upon a time.   
  
He looked on without a reaction or even a moment of surprise as the surface of the lake began to churn, sending the smaller ripples running in fear to the edges of the lake. The reflection of the trees and his wrinkled face cracked.   
  
“Merlin?” a voice asked. The old man didn't look up. Why did that name sound familiar? And that voice. . .   
  
“Merlin?” the voice asked again. A hand touched the old man's arm, drawing his attention to the speaker's face.   
  
“I'm sorry, sir, I'm looking for my friend.” A young man. Blond. Rather short. Looked to have a bit of extra weight around the belt area.   
  
“I don't know,” the old man croaked. “I don't remember who. . .”   
  
“You don't remember what? Do you need help with anything? Do you need help, or anything. . .?” the young man trailed off.   
  
“No,” was his quiet response. “I'm waiting.”   
  
“Waiting for what?”   
  
The old man tried to remember. What was he waiting for? Why was this lake so important to him? “I can't remember,” he finally said.   
  
“Okay,” the young man began backing off. “Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to find my friend.” He hurried off.   
  
“Dollophead,” the old man muttered, staring down at the water again. Where had that even come from? And why was he here? He couldn't remember.   
  
He'd waited too long.   



End file.
